The Right Choice
by JellyBellys
Summary: Warrington gets in over his head when a love potion turns his life upside down. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: **I am not Scottish. Not even a little bit, as far as I know. So I could not possibly be JK Rowling.

**Warnings:** Please note that Warrington likes to swear a lot. This fic also contains quite a bit of mind fuckery, so if you hate that sort of thing, better not read it. Or at least, don't read it then get mad at me. ;o)

**Author Notes:** This was written for the _Overcoming Rivalry_ fic fest based on the prompt "Someone uses a love potion on a rival to cause him/her public embarrassment but find her/himself enjoying being loved."

The use of the word "Maltwit" is not my invention, sadly, I am not that clever and I stole it shamelessly from the very talented **missyetigoosecreature** and her fabulous fic _"The Problem With Knickers." _A much better fic than this one.

* * *

It was a tough decision. Pick the wrong one and he could get caught. And somehow, Warrington had the feeling this would lose him much more than house points. (Even if he _was_ on Umbridge's tacky inquisitorial squad.) That was why he had to be careful. If he was caught, for all he knew he could end up in Azkaban, no matter how much money his parents threw into getting him off.

He was sitting in an empty corner of the library, his belongings sprawled all over the table as an un-invitation to anyone who had a mind to join him. He wasn't aware that his expression alone was enough to do that. Before him was a crumpled, much worn parchment that held a list of girl's names; all of which had a dark line slashed through them with the exception of four. He stared at the remaining names before reluctantly crossing Hermione Granger off of it. Too risky. Potter and the youngest Weasley (Donald? Randy? Ricky?) were bad enough as it was, but he was actually more worried about Malfoy's reaction, the little albino twat. Malfoy _constantly_ talked about "that uppity, buck-toothed, bushy-haired know-it-all."

Once, while Malfoy was off on one of his tangents about how incredibly irritating and hideous Granger was, Pucey had turned to him and whispered, "The lady doth protest too much."

Warrington had no bloody idea what the git was talking about, but it was Pucey, and he ignored half of what the poofter said anyway. Regardless, he had gotten the gist of Pucey's comment, and agreed. Malfoy, the whiny little virgin, definitely wanted to shag the hell out of Granger. So, if she started acting strangely…Warrington sighed and slashed out her name more thoroughly. He had no intention of getting noticed in the slightest by Lucius Malfoy. Pity. Her obsession with equal rights and house elves and fairness to all would've made a rather convincing cover otherwise.

Now he was down to three girls and really, he should've just saved himself the trouble of writing all of those other Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls' names and just admitted it was going to come down to these three no matter what.

After all, he hated them the most, by far. They were uppity, holier than thou Gryffindors who thought they sweated perfume and bled out roses. They were snotty, they talked back, they weren't scared of him _**or** _his friends, he was almost positive not a single one was a pureblood, but worst of all—they beat him at Quidditch. Repeatedly. All the rest he could brush off with a sneer, but not that. They deserved the humiliation he felt whenever the other Slytherins glared at them for losing, for when Professor Snape raged at them in that way of his where his voice would pitch lower and lower, to the point where they were so scared they would promise him anything. They deserved to feel the humiliation he felt whenever a stupid Gryffindork—or hell, even a Hufflepoof or a Ravencrap, they all hated Slytherins—would taunt him.

True, Maltwit had gotten Potter and the Weasley trash kicked off of the team, the whole school was singing a song about how horrible Donald Weasley was at Keeping, but it wasn't _enough_. Warrington hated all of them equally, but he could only pick one. He had to pick the **_right _**one.

Johnson was a good prospect. She had those great legs and that fiery temper, and people would think she had rebelled in her last year at Hogwarts. They would buy it.

Bell was the youngest, far more innocent and naïve, and everyone would easily think that he was able to dupe her.

Then there was Spinnet. She was flighty and fickle and had dated roughly half of the male population at Hogwarts, by last estimate. People would just think she had moved on to something…_riskier_.

Warrington didn't realize it would be so difficult to choose. He was attracted to all of them physically, hated them equally and all had good, plausible reasons for going wild. It was here that Warrington started to get sidetracked, fantasizing about the nude bodies of the luscious Gryffindor chasers and the bitter jealously of his friends and teammates when he received a nasty jolt.

Great Salazar, what had he been _thinking_? How could this have not occurred to him before now? His _teammates_. And their jealousy. Sure, it would be delicious to watch them all silently fume with envy while he had a Gryffindor harpy at his beck and call, but he had a strong suspicion (and he knew he wasn't the only one) that Montague had more than a hatred/lust thing for Johnson. Montague would make his life a living hell if Johnson was suddenly drooling all over him. Montague wasn't as dumb as the rest of them. He would suspect. He would go snooping around. He would find out. And then Warrington would be dead.

On top of that, Johnson had either one or both of the Weasley twins panting after her as well. No. She wouldn't do. He scratched her off violently.

So it was down to Spinnet and Bell. Warrington cast his mind back to the innumerable conversations the Slytherin team had engaged in on the Gryffindor chasers and which one was most shag-worthy. Besides Montague and his twisted thing for Johnson, had any of them acted suspiciously about Spinnet or Bell…? They had all been pretty equally divided whenever they debated the merits of one chaser versus another.

Montague of course, always chose Johnson as the most fuckable. Bletchley liked Spinnet, Pucey always chose Bell, and the rest of them usually said any and all of them, with the exception of Higgs. Higgs always maintained they were too young for him. There might have been something weird with Marcus and Bell, but…Marcus was gone. Graduated two years ago, and he certainly wasn't around to intimidate Warrington any longer. There had also been that bizarre incident with Spinnet and Bletchley and the hexing in the library, but Bletchley insisted that it was the pre-Quidditch fervor.

Fed up with his own indecision, Warrington finally closed his eyes and jabbed his finger blindly at the parchment. Whatever name he was closest to would be the girl. He lifted his finger. Spinnet. Good, he could work with this.

The love potion was almost ready, it would be done by tonight. He just needed to slip it into Spinnet's drink at the first opportunity tomorrow, and it would last until he gave her the antidote. **IF** he gave her the antidote. It would be highly amusing to have her pine for him the rest of her life, after he had grown bored with her. Smirking, Warrington gathered his things together and made his way down to the dungeons. He had work to do.

* * *

"What's with you?" Montague asked around a mouthful of toast.

"What?" Warrington responded, distracted.

"You've been out of it all morning," Montague said, staring at him suspiciously. "And you keep staring at the Gryffindorks. What gives?"

Okay. Good call not to pick Johnson, if a little staring turned Montague into Sherlock Holmes. (Whoever the bloody hell that was.)

"I was thinking about the Weasley's faces when they got kicked off of the team," Warrington covered with a smirk.

Bletchley laughed from across the table. "I would've paid a sack full of galleons to be there."

"You and me both, Bletchley," Pucey snickered from Warrington's other side.

"I would've rather seen Johnson's face when she found out she lost them _and_ their precious Potter," Montague said.

Warrington and Pucey exchanged discreet looks. He decided to test out his theory about Montague, just to make sure before he used the potion.

"I bet Weasley didn't get any that night," he said blandly, buttering a roll.

Montague's face visibly twitched.

Bletchley, looking amused, joined in. "I don't know, Cade," he said in fake bemusement, "I think she just might be the type to go for angry sex."

At this, Montague started purpling.

"I still think she's doing both of them," Adrian added, joining in on the fun. It was like poking a hibernating bear.

Montague made a noise.

"Did you just…_growl_, Montague?" Bletchley asked, delighted.

"Practice," Montague snapped, apropos of nothing. He was roughly the shade of an eggplant by this point. "Practice after classes today. Basic endurance training. I want all of you there."

Warrington rolled his eyes. How very predictable Montague was. Whenever any of them provoked him in the slightest, he scheduled brutal practice sessions as his form of retaliation. Warrington assumed it was because Montague could never think of a suitable comeback.

His teammates started complaining to Montague loudly all around him, so he was able to sneak a peek at the Gryffindor table again. Shit. In the previous taunting of Montague, Spinnet had apparently finished off her breakfast. He was running out of time, and fast.

Warrington shoved his chair back while standing, making a loud scraping noise.

"Those Weasley bastards," he hissed, "they just bloody flicked me off!" And before his friends could say a word, he stormed over to the Gryffindor table. The Weasley twins had of course done no such thing, but it was the only thing he could think of in such short notice to justify him going over to the Gryffindor table to start a row.

The whole thing went perfectly. He marched over to the Gryffindor table, picked a fight with the Weasleys, Lee Jordan, and the Gryffindor chasers, and soon had his teammates at his side, adding to the melee. In short order, he managed to take the small vial of love potion that he had hidden in his sleeve and spilled the contents into Spinnet's goblet, without anyone the wiser. After the professor's had broken up the fight, he watched smugly from the Slytherin table as Spinnet drained her goblet, and stood with her friends, grabbing her books on the way to class.

The potion he had used was highly illegal, extremely potent, non-detectable and untraceable. It took a few hours to work its way into the victim's blood completely, so now all he had to do was wait.

* * *

Warrington waited until he was sure Spinnet was alone in the hallway after Potions, before sidling up to her.

She looked over at him, her eyes narrowing. "What? What is it now, Warrington?" she snapped. "Come to ask me which team you're on? It's the one with the poofters in green," she said snidely. "You know, the ones who can never beat Gryffindor at Quidditch?"

Warrington paused in shock. What in the…? The potion should've started to work over an hour ago! Spinnet should be spouting love sonnets at him this very minute, or trying to tear off his clothes and shag him in the middle of the corridor or something. She shouldn't be making nasty comments as usual.

"Good god, Warrington, you can't even fight back anymore?" Spinnet said, rolling her eyes after his prolonged silence.

He opened his mouth to say something, and shut it again. He had no clue what to say.

_Say, Spinnet, are you suddenly, madly in love with me, and this is just your twisted way of showing it? Because I may not be Head Boy, but I sure as fuck know how to brew a bloody potion, and you should be jumping my bones right about now._

Spinnet stared at him in apparent disgust. She scoffed once more at his continued silence, than flounced away, her hips swaying ridiculously.

Warrington stared after her in horror, his anger starting to rise. He turned to do the typically dumb male adolescent senseless act of violence by punching a wall, when suddenly his robes were yanked violently from behind, and he was dragged into a tiny alcove. Staggering and off balance, he squinted, attempting to adjust to the lack of light.

"Bell?" he asked, shocked.

"I don't know your real name," she stated.

"What?" Warrington asked blankly.

"I mean, I know Warrington IS your real name," she continued, her eyes wide, "but I mean your first name. The name people who care about you call you."

"I…_what_?" Warrington repeated, his bafflement increasing.

"I've been thinking about it all day," she said earnestly, "and it's not right I don't know your name! You know my name is Katie, don't you?" she asked him anxiously.

Warrington continued gaping like a fish.

"Because," Bell plowed on determinedly, "I don't think it's right for us to call each other by our last names. Not when we're soul mates."

"Soul mates?" Warrington repeated, flabbergasted.

"Yes, you idiot," Bell said, now sounding annoyed. "Now what is it? I know it starts with a C, I saw it in the library's copy of _Quidditch through the Ages, _but that's not good enough. I can't call you 'C', now can I?"

Finally, Warrington got it. (He told himself it had only taken so long because he had been so sure that it had been _Spinnet_ who had drained the spiked goblet, and not because of any mental deficiencies on his part.)

"Oh, no, can't call me 'C'," he said, the beginnings of a smirk re-emerging on his face.

"So what is it?" Bell asked impatiently. "Clyde? Chris? Cooper? Cody? Constance? Christian?"

Warrington gagged. "Hardly," he said, revolted. "It's Cade."

"_Cade_," Bell breathed in a tone that implied he had just given her a magical word that turned rocks into gold. "How lovely. Katie and Cade! It's just too perfect, don't you think?"

And with that nauseating sentiment, Bell threw her arms around his neck and latched on to his mouth like a dementor. Well, that was being a bit unfair. Bell was actually a surprisingly good kisser, considering what an innocent little lamb she supposedly was.

Warrington managed to grab a breath of air for a moment, and Bell took the opportunity to paw at him, undoing the buttons of his shirt and loosening his tie.

Bloody hell that was good stuff! Why hadn't he thought of it years ago!

He had just started to return a little pawing of his own when a loud, distinct throat clearing made him freeze in total and complete terror.

"Mr. Warrington, Miss Bell," Professor Snape said from his spot in the corridor two feet away. "What a surprise." He had one eyebrow raised, but his eyes were unfathomable as always.

Warrington couldn't even move, not even to re-button his shirt. The rest of Hogwarts thought the Slytherins loved Professor Snape, and they did, but they _also_ thought the Slytherins weren't _scared_ of Professor Snape, which was completely and utterly untrue. In fact, the Slytherins were more scared of Snape than the rest of the houses combined. McGonagall positively looked like a fuzzy bunny rabbit next to him.

Bell, on the other hand, turned immediately to Snape, her eyes wide, innocent, and extremely doe-like.

_What in the bleeding hell was wrong with him? Why was he thinking like an utter sap? You would think it had been HIM who had been doused with a love potion._

"Professor!" Bell said sweetly. "I'm so sorry, Professor, I know this is very inappropriate of us. But you see, Cade and I are in love," she explained earnestly.

Snape's expression didn't change in the slightest. Well, it didn't change in the observation of a non-Slytherin. Warrington had seen a slight twinge that horrified him further.

"In…love?" Snape echoed slowly.

He had said it as if Bell had turned to him and said she was in love with _him_, for Salazar's sake. Him and his greasy hair and hooked nose, him and his yellow teeth. Really, did Snape think Warrington was such a horrible match for Bell? It was rather insulting.

"Ha ha, good joke, Bell," Warrington said weakly, his voice on the verge of cracking. "Sorry to bother you, sir, we'll just be on our way."

He grabbed Bell's hand and dragged her down the hall before Snape could properly recover.

It was time for lunch, and he had no idea what to do. He hadn't thought through the whole Gryffindor-harpy-in-love-with-him thing, and now Bell was attached to him like an amoeba, and would not listen to any of his frantic attempts to persuade her for them to eat lunch somewhere—_anywhere--_besides the Great Hall.

So here he was, and Bell had slid onto his lap, and Montague had his mouth hanging open, a string bean hanging unattractively out of his maw, and Bletchley was choking to death, and Pucey had turned a ghastly shade of white, and the Gryffindors had zeroed in on him with death in their eyes. Azkaban. He would be there by tomorrow at the latest; there was no question about it.

Before any of his teammates had time to recover, Johnson and Spinnet were already looming over their table, breathing heavily through their noses like enraged rhinoceroses. The Weasleys were cracking their knuckles next to them, and Lee Jordan had come around to the other side of the table and was attempting to pry Bell off of his lap. He was less than successful.

"Katie!" Johnson shrieked, shaking with rage. "What do you think you are doing? Have you gone mad?"

"Have you gone _blind_?" Spinnet interjected, astonished. "That's Warrington, you know. War---ring---ton."

"I'm aware," Bell said coolly. "What's the problem?"

"What's the---what's the _problem_!" Johnson yelped, her voice raising multiple octaves. "That's WARRINGTON! You're sitting on WARRINGTON'S LAP!"

Bell rolled her eyes. "So?" she said irritably. "And do you mind? His name is Cade."

"**_Cade_**?" Spinnet screeched in horror. "CADE!"

At this point, Warrington's mates seemed to have regained their ability to use their vocal chords.

"Do you mind, we're eating here," Pucey drawled.

"Control yourselves," Bletchley snorted. "You would think Warrington had ten eyes, the way you're acting."

"Just cause _one_ of you finally came to your senses, doesn't mean the rest of you are allowed to yell at her," Montague put in smugly.

"Yes, really," Bletchley said, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. "Bell obviously has taste, unlike you two with your boring lumps of wood posing as boyfriends."

"What have you done to her?" One of the Weasley twins cut in, his voice low and deadly. Warrington was pretty sure it was George. He was standing further away from Johnson, for one. For the other, he had always thought George Weasley had a lot more sense than his dim-witted twin.

"Done?" Warrington said, arching a brow. "Absolutely nothing. She came to me."

Bell nodded with him, looking enraged.

"I can't believe you would dare accuse Cade of something so horrible," she snapped, her face turning a blotchy red. "Just because he is in Slytherin doesn't mean he is a bad person."

"Aptly put, Katie," Adrian said smoothly.

Things were looking ugly. Despite Bell's denials, she was surely acting bizarre, and her friends couldn't help but notice it. Warrington was sure his friends knew something was amiss as well, but they would save their inquisition until they were back in the dungeons. For now, they would stand by him and against the self-righteous Gryffindors. He had to stop the whole thing soon. Voices were being raised, and before long, Bell was sure to start spouting some nonsense about their very souls being intertwined, and then no matter how much she protested his innocence, there was no way anyone was going to buy it after _that_.

Bell stormed off in a huff, her friends trailing after her. Warrington warily watched them retreat from the Great Hall. He had no idea the potion would make her act so incredibly bizarre. He had just thought it would make her Bell, the same snotty, holier than thou Gryffindor Princess, who also happened to be in love with a nasty, despicable Slytherin. But this version of Bell...well, she might as well be under Imperious. Something had to be done, and soon. Montague, Bletchley and Pucey were already looking at him funny. Before they could begin hammering him with questions, he beat a hasty retreat, mumbling something about an appointment with Snape.

Warrington half walked, half jogged to the library in a panic. Panicking was against his nature, but this warranted it. Azkaban had always been the nightmare of every wizard child, and he had no intention of rotting there.

Ducking into the library, he warily searched for Madam Pince. Luckily, she was busy at her desk, arguing with some hapless student who had bent a page in one of her books, or something.

Perfect. Being on Umbridge's inquisitorial squad made him look more than a little like a kiss-arse, but it had its benefits. Access to the restricted section of the library was one such privilege. Still, it was best to avoid Madam Pince at all costs. The woman was insane.

Stacks of musty, twistedly dark books later, he found his answer. The potion could be altered. Right now, it was corrupting Bell's mind, making her think and act in ways she never would normally, even if she WAS genuinely in love with him. But that could be fixed. He could make it so that Bell was Bell, just in love with him. Warrington was elated –well, as elated as Warrington could be, which was to say somewhat pleased—when he finished the page and read, much to his dismay, that the altered potion would take a week to brew. Great. Bloody _perfect_. Now all he had to do was keep Bell under control for a week. He had a feeling this would be much easier said than done.

"Cade!" Bell yelled delightedly from somewhere back in the crowded corridor. He barely repressed moaning aloud.

One more day to go before he could fix this mess, and he was quite sure he couldn't stand it one more _second. _ It had been six days full of accusations, both from Bell's friends and his own, six days full of sullen resentment and seething jealousy from his teammates, six days of crude comments about Bell and demands on how she was in the sack. Well, alright, the resentment and jealousy were fun. But the rest….

Warrington wasn't ethical, or moral, or any of that bollocks. Yet even he felt a certain amount of unease in procuring sexual favors from Bell when she was so obviously brainwashed. This didn't stop him from fooling around with her, of course. He was uneasy, not a bloody _saint._ In this condition, he really wasn't interested in shagging her. Well no, that was a lie. He was _very_ interested in shagging her. But not this mutant version of Bell, no, he wanted to shag the real Bell. And if the only way he could do that was through a less potent love potion, well…he was willing to wait another day or two.

Bell, however, was not. She took every opportunity to molest him that she could, regardless of whether they were alone or not. She had sent him an alarming number of owls, most that delivered cringe-inducing poetry and long winded declarations of love. Even worse, she constantly sent him highly embarrassing gifts by owl, and they ALWAYS arrived during breakfast, so the rest of the Great Hall could see. The whole school had talked for days about the incident when Bell had told Flitwick in the middle of Charms that she was unable to complete her homework because she was in love. She had taken to wearing a silver pin in the shape of a snake, although Warrington hadn't the slightest idea where she had procured such an item.

This was what he had originally wanted: Bell's (or Spinnet's or Johnson's, he wasn't picky) abject, school wide humiliation at his hands. No one was talking about how Gryffindor had beaten Slytherin in Quidditch anymore.

What he _hadn't_ counted on was the embarrassment he himself felt. Warrington prided himself on having little to no conscience, and the fact that Bell was making him feel almost…_guilty_ was unacceptable. In the darkest, most secret part of his being, Warrington was enjoying Bell's actions for an entirely different, far more disturbing reason. All the girls he had dated in the past (the vast majority of them Slytherin girls) had never been interested in him in the slightest, besides the fact that he was rich, and that he was a Quidditch player. The amount of times he had been dumped after Slytherin lost a match…

But Bell _cared. _Sure she was nauseating and sentimental, but she actually wanted to get to know him. She wanted to hear about him; his family, his friends, his life, his thoughts…it was quite unnerving. Especially since he was learning to enjoy it.

To make Bell's obsession seem more plausible, Warrington had to act like _he_ was in love. This was most certainly never part of his plan, but it was imperative no one figured out what he was doing, and it was crucial he not get shipped off to Azkaban. So he had to act almost as sappy as she did. He sent her flowers and candy and all that sort of rubbish, and he recently had started buying her extremely expensive jewelry. She hadn't taken off the diamond earrings since he had sent them to her.

Before Bell could shove her way through the crowds and get to him, Warrington ducked into an empty classroom, peering out through a slit in the door until she passed. That was close. Now if only the day would be over, and he could administer the correct potion.

* * *

It had worked well beyond his wildest dreams. Two months had gone by since the second dose of the love potion he had given Bell, and now things were settling down. The Gryffindors still made half-hearted efforts to talk Bell to her senses, but now that she was acting like herself, and she seemed glowingly happy, made them less suspicious. They were starting to accept that Bell really loved him.

His mates had moved on from suspicion as well, although the wonderful jealousy was still there. They now seemed convinced that Bell, for whatever reason, was madly in love with him.

Everything was perfect. The one nagging detail that kept him awake from time to time was the fact that he was supposed to have dumped her by now. He was supposed to have humiliated her, used her, broken her little Gryffindor heart, and moved on, while laughing heartily in her tear stricken face. Warrington had no such intentions anymore. If he was being completely honest with himself, he enjoyed having Bell around. She was the perfect girlfriend. He even, in fact, thought he might be falling in love with her. Sure, his sentimental side was unexpected and unwanted, but now that it had manifested itself, he didn't want to let Bell go. He was actually…_happy_ for once in his life. He should've known it could not have possibly lasted.

* * *

"I finally figured it out how you're doing it," Pucey said to him, his eyes gleaming in triumph.

The two of them were alone in their dorm room, and Warrington had been in the midst of writing Bell an owl.

"What? Doing what?" he asked, genuinely bewildered.

"Oh, come on, Cade, you really think I bought that Bell was suddenly in love with you? The rest of those idiots might have been fooled, but I wasn't born yesterday," Pucey said to him, his eyes narrowing.

Warrington's blood ran cold. No. How could Pucey know? He had been so careful. Maybe it was a false alarm.

"Adrian, I don't know what you're talking about," he lied icily. "I know you might've had a thing for her once, and I'm sorry, but Katie and I are in love. You'll just have to accept that."

Pucey had a twisted smirk on his face. "In love with her, are you? I suppose that's genuine. But not her love, is it Cade? Very dangerous stuff, messing with love potions. Especially illegal ones that can send you to Azkaban."

"Love potions?" Cade scoffed. "You're off your trolley, Adrian. One too many drills by Montague during practice."

Adrian ignored this. "I knew, you see, right away that something was wrong. Why the bloody hell would Bell want you? And she was acting so strange at first, Cade. You really did a sloppy job. Sure, you fixed the potion to make her more herself, and you managed to fool everyone else, but I know the truth."

There was no sense in pretending anymore, so Warrington sat up straight on his bed, abandoning his parchment, and locked eyes with his friend. "What are you planning on doing about it, Adrian? I can make one for you, you know. Just name the girl, and she's yours."

Pucey's face convulsed. "You're despicable," he hissed. "Like I would want some brainwashed girl. I can get them just by being myself. No, no don't think you can bribe me, Warrington."

"So what do you want?" Warrington asked, the blood draining slowly from his face.

"The truth," Pucey said quietly. "Just the truth."

"Fine," Warrington said desperately. "It's true, alright? I did give her a love potion. I meant to humiliate her at first. But it's over now, now I love her, I mean it, Adrian. I've never loved anyone. You can't ruin this for me," he begged.

Pucey looked at him silently for some moments.

"I already have," he said softly. "I stole the antidote from your trunk. I gave it to Bell this morning. I sent her an owl, telling her everything. It's over, Warrington. She never wants to have anything to do with you again. She hates you."

Warrington was speechless. Pucey was his friend, in fact, the only real friend he had. Why would he do this to him? He certainly wasn't a chivalrous Gryffindor either.

"Why?" Warrington croaked. "Why would you…"

"Because I love her, of course," Adrian said, his eyes blazing with hatred. "I've loved her for years, and I can't have her brainwashed for some no good bastard like yourself, Warrington."

"So you brainwashed her for yourself," Warrington said numbly.

"No," Pucey said, raising his eyebrows, "oh no. You see, she likes me _without_ a potion. I'm afraid she's my girlfriend now, Warrington. And there's nothing you can do about it. If you even _think _about poisoning her again, I'll turn you over to Dumbledore. I'm sure you'll like it in Azkaban. Maybe they'll even give you Sirius Black's old cell."

Pucey was right. There was nothing Warrington could do. Nothing at all. His owls to Bell returned unopened. He received an owl from her containing every letter, every gift he had ever given her, with no note. She ignored him whenever he tried to approach her in the halls. Her friends surrounded her everywhere she went. It was impossible to get her alone, to try to explain, to try to beg for her forgiveness.

When she wasn't with her friends, she was with Pucey. And Pucey wasn't lying. She really did love Adrian for himself. Warrington could tell the difference.


End file.
